Fern baby!

Today was an average-ish day in my world.  It started with some spots of rain so I had to ’run’ to my car.  I drove to college following the same route I do most mornings - taking extra care not to exceed 60MPH to prevent the car’s boot from opening on the motorway (the catch is broken) - and I found a parking space approximately 3 minutes walk from college.  Other than scoffing my first Christmas dinner of the season and handing in an essay (on time) the day passed by without major incident.  But that was before I logged onto my hotmail account and read the MSN news headline “The women men secretly adore poll had a surprise winner!”  I was intrigued.  Clicking on the link I soondiscovered that I was not alone after-all.  Men’s magazine ‘Nuts’ named Fern Briton the 4th most secretly adored woman on TV! 

So for the record… Fern is staying on my Laminate List!

This is no tea-time teaser, its for real! She’s one of the best known women on tele but alas, Carol Vorderman has packed up her whiteboard markers for the last time. As the time ticks away on the big countdown clock Carol spells out for her fans that she’s moving on to pastures new (we just hope this was a well calculated move). We’ll miss her witty charm, good looks, ever changing hair-styles and long legs. Teenaged boys all over the country will have no reason to rush home from school. She’s had a good few years from the top and almost none from the bottom so when all is said and done it all added up to a successful career. But what do we do now with our afternoons? Well I think thats one conundrum we have to work out for ourselves.

Goodbye Carol – missing you already!

Could Ireland have stumbled accross the new internet No.1?  The song “Irish O’Bama” by Hardy Drew and the Nancy Boys is a good-humoured irish pub song.  It originated from a speech when Barack Obama said he was looking forward to having a pint in Monegall, where his ancestors are from.  Listen to the song here and buy it here!

O’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
 
You don’t believe me, I hear you say
But Barack’s as Irish, as was JFK
His granddaddy’s daddy came from Moneygall
A small Irish village, well known to you all

Toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’Bama

He’s as Irish as bacon and cabbage and stew
He’s Hawaiian he’s Kenyan American too
He’s in the white house, He took his chance
Now let’s see Barack do Riverdance

Toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’Bama

From Kerry and cork to old Donegal
Let’s hear it for Barack from old moneygall
From the lakes if Killarney to old Connemara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama

O’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
From the old blarney stone to the great hill of Tara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama

2008 the white house is green, their cheering in Mayo and in Skibereen.
The Irish in Kenya, and in Yokahama,
Are cheering for President Barack O’Bama

O’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama

The Hockey Moms gone, and so is McCain
They are cheering in Texas and in Borrisokane,

In Moneygall town, the greatest of drama, for our Famous president Barack o Bama

Toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’Bama

The great Stephen Neill, a great man of God,
He proved that Barack was from the Auld Sod
They came by bus and they came by car, to celebrate Barack in Ollie Hayes’s Bar

O’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama

It’s been three days since I vowed to make friends with a celebrity.  (See #9 in post below).  Although I have seven months to make this minor miracle happen it is proving very difficult to get started.  Questions crowd in on me concerning the best plan of action; a possible shortlist; geographical location; gender and so on.  But my biggest quandary is trying to define a ‘celebrity’.

Having consulted a few trusted people in my life we have decided that a celebrity is someone who, if invited to ones wedding or birthday party, would be recognised by most people.  But doesn’t this vary depending on ones friendship circle?  

More than all the rest, this challenge causes me the most angst.  Unless I have a finely honed strategy; I could be arrested, locked up in an asylum, shot by an undercover body-guard, run-over by a motorcade, punched, followed and threatened, beaten to a pulp… the list is endless when you think about it!

Therefore I have decided that a minor celebrity from the emerald isle may be the most achievable and certainly more possible than an international movie star or rap artist.  Suggestions so far have included William Crawley, Shane Lynch, Ian Paisley, Gerry Anderson, Hugo Duncan, Christine Bleakley, Fanta Clarke, Eamon Holmes and the current Presbyterian Moderator.  So I now shamelessly make my appeal to any A, B or C list, Irish/British celebrity, who by chance reads this blog, to get in touch with me… thanks. 

All other suggestions gratefully received.

At the time of writing this post I am a single male aged twenty-nine years and six months.  I have no regular job although my future seems to be taken care off so I’m not worried.  I’m assured. 

However, I can’t help but feel like there’s something terribly grown-up about being thirty something.  When the twenties have passed we no longer have the right/freedom/excuse to be irresponsible, fool-hardy and adventurous.  Therefore the time has come for me to write down some achievable ‘tasks’ which may enhance my life experiences over the next six months.  This list of ‘things to do before I’m 30′ helps to legitimise some of my hankerings and challenge my comfort zones.

Thank you to my friends for your helpful comments and suggestions.  I have decided to omit: shooting something; sleeping rough; speed-dating; parachute jumping; buying a PHD and getting married.  These suggestions were – after much contemplation – either too expensive, too desperate or too uncomfortable.  But thanks anyway!

Hopefully this ”to do” list will generate enough material to keep my blog alive for a bit longer!

1. Do some overseas travel by myself
2. Go to a ballet
3. Learn a second language (excluding biblical Greek and Hebrew)
4. Grow vegetables
5. Ride a motorbike
6. Play guitar in church
7. Own a pet
8. Test drive an expensive car that I have no intention of buying
9. Make friends with a celebrity
10. Climb a mountain
11. Take up a sport
12. Start a society
13. Become a volunteer in an organisation
14. Apply for a T.V. show
15. Cook dinner for a stranger
16. Sell something on ebay
17. Organise a street party
18. Go busking for an afternoon
19. Send flowers to a girl who’s not related to me
20. Go on a road-trip in Ireland and camp somewhere which isn’t a campsite and cook breakfast in the morning on a trangia stove
21. Broaden my friendship circle to better represent the cultural and religious differences in society
22. Lead someone to Jesus
23. Go to a music festival
24. Eat at a Michelin starred restaurant
25. Read “Cloud Atlas” (I chose this at random from a list)
26. Record my family history
27. Watch the “Star Wars Trilogy”
28. Get something published
29. Visit London
30. Sing Karaoke

What do you get if you cross a black and white pigeon with two wasps and a mega-large americano?  A cosmopolitan coffee experience in Portadown!

Whilst my trusty Rover 25 was getting a nice new pair of brakes I decided to do coffee and sermon prep in a pleasant non-threatening environment.  After a 5 minute dander with my laptop strapped to my back I decided on the new “O’Brien’s”, just beside the church.  After avoiding the unfortunately placed dog poo at the front door I wandered inside and over to the counter.  I ordered a large americano and fumbled in my pocket for a couple of pound coins.  Something moved, behind the big red sofa to my right.  I glanced at the girl behind the counter and she shot me a nervous, slightly flustered, glance back.  Eventually a black and white pigeon tottered out from behind the sofa.  “Do you know there’s a pigeon in here”  I said helpfully.  “Yeah” she said with a sigh “we’ve been trying to get him out all morning”.  I took my coffee to the other side of the cafe and opened my laptop.  Apparently it takes 2 O’brien’s workers, half a loaf of bread and 25 minutes to tease a pigeon out of a coffee shop.  It only takes one ministry student and a second-hand newspaper to kill two wasps.

this is a potato

 Tuesday is the first day of my working week and what a day it’s been.  I went to bed yesterday evening (Monday) feeling very pleased with myself for laying a 5ft path in my back garden, and I vowed to “kill dead things” when I woke up today (Tuesday).  I woke up late and subsequently very peed off.  Sporting my new pyjamas I crawled to the kitchen in agony feeling like i’d done ten rounds with Mike Tyson and looking like a geriatric. 

No milk.  Black coffee.  Bah!

Showered, shaved and feeling much better I shuffled to the study and discovered that I had lots of incredibly important face-booking, blog-reading and e-mailing to do.  2 hours later and my afternoon entertainment had arrived at the door.  I greeted them, we drank coffee and went book shopping.  Now it’s 4:30pm.

Heading home I console myself that there’s a good 2 hours before heading out for my dinner invitation.  One mile from the house I randomly bump into my mother and her mate who have been out shopping for wedding outfits.  “Who’s wedding?” i ask.  “Oh no-one in particular, its just good to be prepared for every eventuality”.  If they’re holding out for my wedding they’d better have supplies!

6:30pm and my Mother and her friend head off home and I head for my dinner.  Its a lovely, good, wholesome dinner which contained three of my ‘five-a-day’ portions.  We ate potatoes that had been grown in the garden.  I – all of a sudden – became terribly and genuinely interested in the art of growing potatoes.  I asked my hosts lots of questions and they patiently told me that I could grow my own potatoes in a half barrel of soil and mud if i wanted to.  If I plant in February I can harvest in June and I’d get dozens of potatoes for my efforts.  “You can’t go wrong” he said  “After the harvest thanksgiving last year we threw some leftover potatoes into the rubbish dump at the church graveyard.  We had a great crop of potatoes in June, and without even trying” he told me proudly.  “Did you eat them?”  I asked.  “Oh no, sure they grew in a rubbish dump in a graveyard, why would we eat them?!”  I blushed.

I’m going to get a half barrel of mud and muck and chuck in a few spuds in February.  I’ll be a farmer by June!       

It’s 10:30pm… I really ought to do some work!

Sunny Saturday at an Irish car boot sale – What a Job!

(And they look so smug!)